


For the foreseeable future

by ToxicPineapple



Series: Saimota Week 2020 [2]
Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: :3, Alternate Universe - Neighbours, Alternate Universe - No Hope's Peak Academy (Dangan Ronpa), Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Angst, Conversations, Crying, Cuddling, Hurt/Comfort, I'm aware that the summary is what, M/M, Rain, Saimota Week, Saimota Week 2020, Shuichi's parents are dicks, This is about Shuichi's parents jerking him around, implied romantic feelings, somewhat misleading?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:07:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24274039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicPineapple/pseuds/ToxicPineapple
Summary: Sometimes Shuichi has this way of sitting where it’s impossible to reach him. Like, he’s right there, physically, but at the same time it feels as though he’s a thousand miles away. Right now the rain is coming down hard and from the thick grey clouds spread above their heads it’s only going to come down harder. Shuichi’s dark blue hair would probably be plastered to his forehead right now, were he to lift his head. His bangs would fall into his eyes and his eyelashes are long enough that they’d probably tangle. He looks… deeply tired. But there’s also something dreamy about his presence, about how still he is, posed like that. If Kaito wanted to he could reach out, right this moment, and run his fingers through Shuichi’s hair.And still part of him is convinced that his friend isn’t even there at all.---Shuichi comes over during a thunderstorm with a bouquet of flowers in his hand and the sound of yelling coming from his house. It's business as usual for Kaito, really.---Saimota week day two: Flowers/Thunder
Relationships: Momota Kaito/Saihara Shuichi
Series: Saimota Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1750948
Comments: 14
Kudos: 112





	For the foreseeable future

**Author's Note:**

> written for saimota week day two! i used both flowers and thunder as my prompts in this one

Kaito finds Shuichi sitting out in the backyard, his feet resting on the concrete but the rest of him seated on the third step. It’s a testament to his flexibility that he’s able to fold himself in half that way, his entire upper body using his own thighs as a pillow, his arms tucked underneath his head and propped up on his knees. Kaito wants to say something, like,  _ hey man,  _ but… it’s hard for him to find the strength to break the silence.

Sometimes Shuichi has this way of sitting where it’s impossible to reach him. Like, he’s right there, physically, but at the same time it feels as though he’s a thousand miles away. Right now the rain is coming down hard and from the thick grey clouds spread above their heads it’s only going to come down harder. Shuichi’s dark blue hair would probably be plastered to his forehead right now, were he to lift his head. His bangs would fall into his eyes and his eyelashes are long enough that they’d probably tangle. He looks… deeply tired. But there’s also something dreamy about his presence, about how still he is, posed like that. If Kaito wanted to he could reach out, right this moment, and run his fingers through Shuichi’s hair.

And still part of him is convinced that his friend isn’t even there at all.

As much as he still wants to say something, Kaito finds himself swallowing down the urge, sitting down on the deck despite lopsided, poorly cut planks with splintered edges and loose nails. He kicks off his slippers and tucks his bare feet under his knees, leaning his head against one of the pillars that holds up the roof of the back porch. Shuichi’s house is across the lawn, and there’s even a fence between, but through the open window that leads to Shuichi’s kitchen, Kaito can hear raised voices. Two of them. And it doesn’t take a genius to figure out whose they are. Not after looking at the bouquet of blue and white flowers that is resting next to Shuichi on the step.

It’s a coin toss on whether Shuichi actually realises that Kaito is out here. He might be so absorbed in his thoughts, distracted by the feeling of the cold rain on his skin, that he doesn’t even realise. Which all things considered could be for the best, but at the same time Kaito doesn’t want Shuichi to feel like he’s alone (unless that’s what he wants, in which case he should get the opportunity to tell Kaito to fuck off) so he scoots himself by his ass until he plops down onto the step above Shuich’s. It’s more than a little loud but Shuichi doesn’t move. Kaito almost thinks he doesn’t even notice, but--

“Sorry,” Shuichi’s voice is muffled by the sleeves of his hoodie. They’re wet now, of course. Kaito watches clear droplets of water soaking into the thick black fabric for a long, stilted moment, until Shuichi speaks again. “I should probably explain why I came over.”

“Nah,” Kaito shakes his head, reaching out to bump Shuichi on the back but then retracting his hand, deciding against it. He can feel the water from the edge of the roof dripping down onto his head, mingling with the raindrops that are splattering onto his bare feet, but he ignores it, in favour of looking over at his best friend. Who still won’t look at him. “I can guess, y’know?” Shuichi’s hands visibly tighten on his elbows, and Kaito bites the inside of his cheek. He’s tempted to backpedal, but he knows Shuichi would hate it if he dodged the subject like it’s poison. “They got you flowers?”

“An apology,” even without the muffling of his sweatshirt, Shuichi’s voice would be faint. “That’s what the argument is about right now. They want me to stay with my aunt and uncle for a while longer.”

Kaito grunts. “Any idea how long?”

“No,” Shuichi turns his head to the side now, and Kaito resists the urge to bite his lip, seeing the tears that are spilling from his friend’s eyes. He doesn’t like it when Shuichi cries. Partly because he always feels uncomfortable around crying-- barring, like, a  _ hug,  _ or maybe a motivational speech, Kaito never really knows what exactly he’s supposed to do-- but also just because it’s… painful, seeing Shuichi upset. Which is a difficult fact to stomach if only because it happens so often. “That’s the funny thing, they usually have an end date, but not this time. Just… for the foreseeable future.”

“Huh.” Kaito has to physically restrain himself from saying something bitter. Shuichi has every right to make those remarks but it wouldn’t be fair to him, to say that stuff out loud. It’s not really Kaito’s fault though that he always has the very strong urge to punch the shit out of Shuichi’s parents, whenever this sort of thing comes up. He’s been staying with his aunt and uncle in the house next door to Kaito’s for four years now, and subsequently they’ve been best friends for exactly that long. The only thing is that when Shuichi first moved in with his uncle, it was supposed to be a six month arrangement.

Kaito knows he’s not the only person who’s stopped thinking Shuichi’s parents are going to rush in someday and take Shuichi with them to California. Even Shuichi knows that, probably, even though it’s never something they’ve said out loud. The one time they came close, Shuichi got upset to the point where he didn’t talk to Kaito for several days. Yeah, no. Still, the least they could do would be to stop acting like there’s still a chance of them taking Shuichi back. It’s bad enough that they left to begin with, but drawing it out like this… Kaito scowls down at the flowers resting between them and then tears his gaze away. Shuichi doesn’t need his anger right now.

“I’m sorry, man.”

“I’m… not sure what you’re apologising for,” Shuichi turns his head so that he’s facing forward, and Kaito gazes at his profile, watching his brow furrow. “I should’ve figured they were doing this. It might’ve… been nicer if they had just told me over the phone, rather than flying in, but…” his voice tapers off at the end and Kaito opens and closes his mouth. Shuichi looks fragile, like to the point of crumpling down, and it’s not… fair.

He wishes he knew what to say. There are times when words come perfectly, like there’s a script laid out of what Kaito is supposed to say-- or if not a script, then some kind of a guideline. Rules to follow in building responses. He’s equipped to handle a multitude of problems. Kaito actually considers himself to pretty  _ good  _ at comforting people, just as a general rule. Not that he’d ever aim as low as a life coach, ambition wise, but it’s something that he’d be good at, without a doubt. Right now it feels like no matter what he says, it’s going to be the wrong answer. What he really wants to do is express how pissed  _ off  _ he is, at Shuichi’s parents, at his aunt and uncle for not putting their fucking feet down, at the universe at large for making Shuichi feel this way… but he can’t do that.

In what Kaito hopes is a subtle gesture, he presses his hands down between his legs and clasps them together. So that they’ll stop shaking. It’s Akifumi who’s yelling right now, Shuichi’s uncle. Kaito likes the guy well enough. He’s known him longer than he’s known Shuichi, since they’ve been neighbours for all the time Kaito’s lived with his grandparents. (Around nine years now, since Kaito’s seventeen.)

And Akifumi is, completely, a really nice guy. So’s his wife. Good guardians for Shuichi. They really care about him, too. It’s just that they won’t say  _ no, the kid’s ours--  _ they keep letting Shuichi’s parents lie and jerk him around and getting his hopes up. It’s stupid, to resent them for that, but Kaito can’t really stop himself from resenting anything that causes Shuichi any sort of pain, and unfortunately Akifumi and Mei fall in that category. Just the teensiest bit.

Before Kaito can even begin to gather his thoughts and figure out something good to say to Shuichi, the sky flashes white, and Kaito bites his lip, silently counting the seconds that are spent in silence. When thunder eventually rumbles in the distance, he opens his mouth, but Shuichi beats him to it. “Thirty five,” he says quietly, and Kaito meets his gaze. “Seven miles.”

“We’re good,” Kaito replies. Shuichi manages a weak smile, and Kaito looks at him until it falls. He keeps looking at him after that, too, because his tears aren’t falling anymore but he still seems unsteady, shaken, like the world was ripped out from under him again, the thousandth time, and he still wasn’t able to see it coming. Kaito isn’t able to stop himself, this time, from reaching out and resting his hand on Shuichi’s knee. Giving it a gentle, but firm (because he always tries to be firm, even in the quieter moments) squeeze. Just to let him know he’s here. “It’s okay to be upset about it, Shu. Even if you didn’t see it coming.”   
  


“I  _ did _ see it coming,” Shuichi says, and Kaito is surprised by how bitter he sounds-- beyond bitter, he sounds angry, and resentful, his brows scrunching up and tilting down and making his expression harsh in a way that is unfamiliar on his delicate features. “I saw it coming last time, and the time before that too. But I decided to trust them, because they’re my parents, and,” he stops short for a moment but then plows onwards, like whatever reservations he had a moment ago, he decided to toss them to the wind. “And for some reason I decided that I’d trust them again this time. And what is it, I’m just going to do it again?” He sits up straight now, wiping at his eyes with both hands, huffing out an angry, choked laugh. “Why do I bother? Why can’t I just tell them to go away? I know who my real parents are, they’re--”

“Shuichi,” Kaito cuts him off, not necessarily because he wants to but because Shuichi genuinely looks like he can’t breathe. “You’re gonna start hyperventilating, man.”

“I--” Shuichi looks like he wants to retort to that, but he looks over at Kaito and softens entirely, his shoulders slumping down and the edge disappearing from his eyes. Maybe he can’t say anything about breathing (or the lack thereof, in this case) because he witnessed one of Kaito’s asthma attacks a year ago. The alternative is that the sight of him acted to calm him down, and while that’d be flattering, Kaito thinks that Shuichi tends more towards empathetic than stuck in his own head. Then again-- there’s always a little bit of wiggle room.

The sky flashes again, and this time it’s thirty seconds before thunder rumbles, low and threatening in the distance. Kaito frowns up at the sky but doesn’t miss the way Shuichi shivers, wrapping his arms around himself as though hugging someone who isn’t there. “You alright?”

“Fine,” Shuichi mumbles, though from the way his hands tighten again on his arms, he doesn’t really look it. “Cold, though.”   
  


“Yeah, we should go in,” Kaito runs a hand through his hair, grimacing at the way the water mingles with his hair gel. Looks like he’s in for a hot shower after this. Maybe Shuichi ought to go first, though. “The lightning’s coming closer, y’know. Wouldn’t want you to get struck by lightning.”

A weird smile twitches across Shuichi’s face. Kaito waits for him to say what he’s thinking but eventually he just nods, getting to his feet. When he’s standing, he sways a little bit, and Kaito scrambles to follow, reaching out to rest a hand on Shuichi’s upper arm, keeping him steady. It earns him a tired, grateful smile in reply, before Shuichi climbs the steps and starts back towards the door.

Kaito’s eyes catch on the bouquet of flowers, forgotten and abandoned on the steps. “Uh, Shu, you forgot your--”

  
“Leave them,” Shuichi replies, a bit too roughly, and Kaito looks over at him, raising his eyebrows. “Ah-- sorry,” he looks down at his feet, one of his hands resting on the doorknob as though he forgot it’s there. “I’m just… I’ll get them later. I…”

“I get it,” Kaito says quietly. He relishes the break from the downpour when he steps back onto the porch, bending over briefly to grab his slippers before making his way to Shuichi. It seems like Shuichi wants to say something, maybe related to the flowers, maybe not, but he appears to decide against it because he doesn’t say a single word. He just turns around and walks back into the house, so Kaito follows him, dropping his slippers onto the floor and stepping into them before following his friend up the stairs. They’re both wet, such that they make a trail up the stairs, but it’s fine. Kaito will mop all of this up later when they’ve both showered.

After Shuichi disappears into the bathroom, armed with a large, fluffy purple towel (Kaito’s favourite but Shuichi is welcome to any number of Kaito’s things) and a dry change of clothes (Kaito’s, but see the aforementioned) Kaito lays a towel down on his desk chair and drags it over the window, where he takes a seat and stares out. His window is right above the backyard, where they were sitting before, so if Kaito looks closely enough he can see shadows dancing in the Saihara household. Hand gestures and pacing and all that. The sight gets tiresome before too long and so he draws his curtains, more contempt stirring in the pit of his stomach.

The reason Shuichi came over-- and it’s not the first time he’s come over like this-- was because his aunt was upset, for very much the same reasons that Kaito is. Akifumi is too, no doubt, but he’s never been the shouting type. In fact he’s only raised his voice once, that Kaito can remember, and that was a long time ago, relating to a family that lived in the house on the corner of the block that has long since moved away. Shuichi can’t handle yelling, doesn’t like the noise nor does he like the feeling of being in a room when the argument was about him, so naturally, he came here. Kaito’s not complaining. His house is here so by all means Shuichi should see it as a place to take refuge. He’s always welcome in this household.

It just makes him feel awful, that the place where Shuichi came to escape can’t even provide any real comfort. Kaito always freezes up in those moments, like the one on the back porch, when Shuichi was ranting about how he always trusts his parents when they say they’ll come back. It’s not even a thing where the context trips him up, it’s  _ Shuichi.  _ The stakes are so high with Shuichi. Not because Shuichi is difficult to please in that regard, necessarily-- it’s more just that Kaito can’t bear the thought of doing something wrong, of saying something insensitive, and possibly worsening things for his friend. It makes him feel sort of sick to his stomach. Shuichi already has enough to deal with.

The thing is that saying nothing at all, like Kaito often ends up doing? That’s not much better. In fact in some instances it’s pretty much worse. Shuichi never says, though, and Kaito doesn’t know what to think as a result. Only that he feels like he should be saying  _ something.  _ Shuichi deserves a real, actual shoulder to cry on. Not some idiot who just stares at him while he breaks down.

Usually, Shuichi takes really long showers, but maybe he’s got water usage on the mind today because he’s out of the bathroom, hair dripping from the tap this time rather than the sky, in under ten minutes. He doesn’t meet Kaito’s gaze except to murmur a small thanks, but as Kaito grabs boxers from his underwear drawer, he hears Shuichi flopping down onto his bed, and chews the inside of his cheek.

He still doesn’t know what to say. (The knob in the shower is already turned to hot when Kaito turns on the water, so he doesn’t have to do that whole  _ dance away from the stream when he first turns it on because the water is still fucking cold _ thing, so that’s nice.) It’s not that he thinks he should be able to fix Shuichi’s problems with a word or a reassurance. He knows better than  _ that,  _ that nothing in life is ever going to be that simple and problems take time, no matter how unpleasant it is, witnessing the process of them getting fixed. But he wishes he could say something substantial, something comforting-- the kind of thing that would give Shuichi a good reason to come over here when he’s on the verge of tears.

Kaito frowns to himself, massaging his shampoo (papaya, because that’s the good shit) into his scalp as he mulls over the thoughts. At the very least he can tell Shuichi that he’s not going anywhere. That he’s not going to pick up and leave, like his parents did. That if he  _ did  _ have to leave, for any reason, there wouldn’t be pretense about it. He’d be straightforward. Though, thinking about it more, maybe Kaito will keep that last part to himself, if only because he can’t stand the thought of leaving-- not for Shuichi’s sake but for his own. Where would he go, anyway? Shuichi’s the best friend he’s ever had.

Before exiting the bathroom, Kaito finds a hair tie in one of his drawers and uses it to pull his wet hair out of his face. He feels like a fucking moron with his hair down, no product whatsoever, but Shuichi’s already seen it like that before, so it’s a non-issue. He’s mostly just pulling it back so he won’t drip all over the place like some kind of idiot.

When Kaito reenters his room, he sees that Shuichi’s curled up around a pillow, shoulders tensed around his neck. Usually when Shuichi stays the night Kaito grabs his sleeping bag from the closet and lets Shuichi take the bed, but the thought of making Shuichi sleep like that all night, by himself, is… well, Kaito feels like a dick, is all he’s saying. Plus, he can’t ignore his own desires, and right now those only go as far as,  _ holding Shuichi in his arms,  _ so if he can then that’s what he’s going to do.

As delicately as possible, Kaito sits down on the edge of the bed, the one opposite where Shuichi is curled up, and reaches out to brush a couple wet strands of navy blue hair out of Shuichi’s face. He’s wearing an old shirt of Kaito’s, a JAXA t-shirt he bought at a planetarium several years ago. It’s large on Shuichi, like a night shirt, but Kaito’s determinedly not thinking about how warm that makes his chest, seeing the way his friend looks in his clothes. Not a very bro move. It’s not like Shuichi had time to pack an overnight bag when he was storming out of his uncle’s house. Borrowing clothing is no big deal.

“Hey man,” Kaito keeps his voice soft, just in case Shuichi is asleep. The hum he gets in reply, a timid and shaky but certainly inquisitive sort of thing, serves as proof enough that he isn’t. “Can I… Would it bother you if I spooned you?”

Shuichi cracks a single grey eye open, and Kaito pretends not to see that it’s watery. He shakes his head, though, so Kaito lies down carefully behind Shuichi and grabs at his duvet, yanking it up to pull it over them before curling an arm around his friend’s waist. Shuichi is shaking, Kaito notices; it was hard to tell earlier, because the tremble is hardly there, but now that they’re so close together he can feel it, and he can feel the way Shuichi’s breath hitches too, catches on itself multiple times before releasing in a very determined way. Kaito chews his lip.

“You’re allowed to cry, Shu,” he mutters. “Men do that sometimes. Cry.”

“I’m so tired of that,” Shuichi whispers in return. His voice cracks in the middle but he keeps talking. “Crying over my parents.”

Well, there’s no  _ scripted  _ response to that one. “I know,” Kaito opts to say instead, tilting his face forward to press a light kiss to the exposed patch of shoulder that the t-shirt allows. Shuichi shivers, but Kaito thinks that’s entirely unrelated to his tears. “Doesn’t make your emotions any less justified, though.”

Shuichi whimpers. Maybe. Kaito finds it difficult to tell, exactly, what it is, the sound that slips from his mouth. Nonetheless it’s the kind of thing that tears him up inside to hear, the kind that makes Kaito want to track down every bad thing in the world and destroy it before it has even the slightest chance of reaching Shuichi-- except, that could never work, because what’s hurting him right now isn’t the kind of thing he could just tear to pieces, even if sometimes he desperately wants to. He knows that’d never make Shuichi happy.

After a while, Shuichi turns around, shuffling slightly in Kaito’s arms, and then relaxes on his other side so they’re lying facing one another. He doesn’t give Kaito the chance to see what expression he’s making, though, because without speaking he leans in close, chest to chest kind of proximity, and tucks his face into Kaito’s shoulder. His hands clutch at the fabric of his t-shirt.

It’s easy to pretend he doesn’t notice it, the way tears start to soak into his night shirt. Kaito can’t stop himself from biting his lip this time, though, closing his eyes for the briefest moment, trying to steady himself so he doesn’t start crying too. That would be fucking stupid. It’s just that this doesn’t get any easier, not even after all the times it’s happened in the past. Maybe if Shuichi could stop caring about them… but no, that wouldn’t happen. Not even in a million years.

Kaito kisses him on the top of his head, rather than chase down that train of thought, and squeezes him around the waist. They can have this now. In the morning maybe they’ll talk about it. Often times Shuichi doesn’t want to, though-- and if that’s the case, then Kaito will let it rest. Even though he’s always been so bad at that.

For the moment he stops thinking about it, all the things and people he hates, and instead focuses on the boy resting in his arms, matches their breathing automatically and closes his eyes for real. He can forget about finding the perfect thing to say, just for a second. Maybe it’ll all seem a lot easier in the morning.

(And if it doesn’t, well, that sounds like a morning-Kaito problem.)

**Author's Note:**

> i live in seattle so rain is sexy to me. what can i say


End file.
